I'll Swim the Ocean For You
by Lady Bloodless
Summary: Set three years after leaving Roswell the Royal Four and their counter-parts reunite in California only to find that the heat has not yet left them and an old ally might turn out to be an enemy after all.
1. Reunion in the Redwoods

**A/N: **First of all I do not own the characters of Roswell, they were created by Jason Katims and his gang. I also do not own the lyrics which inspired the title. They are from a song called "Kelsey" by Metro Station. I hope to do as many chapters for this story as my muse allows me. Your input would be greatly appreciated.

P.S. This is staged three years after they leave Roswell.

_Oh Maria, you…_

The night crawled on, the world kept under the wraps of a dark velvet blanket that was vaguely punctured by pin pricks of light—the last hints of life from millions of dying stars. The heat of the day had ebbed and hid itself away, favoring instead the cool kiss of a dry wind from the west that ruffled the hair of a solitary figure on a hill.

Dark eyes drank in the wilderness that seemed to stretch forever, trees as tall as sky scrapers and flora that almost looked as though it had retained some semblance of its prehistoric origins. It was hard to see the stars through the canopy but their comfort was empty to him now, he was grounded here in more ways than one. Surviving in a world that wanted to analyze and annihilate him and his friends—no, not his friends, his family, he had no choice but to stand guard.

The infamous stone wall that served as a nigh impenetrable barrier was the only thing that had kept him from breaking and losing grip completely. And that was only if he was being dishonest with himself. If Michael Guerin was to be completely honest he would say that Maria, Isabel, Liz, Max, Valenti, and the lost friend Alex had all done their parts to push the pieces of him together. Most of them were there with him now in the Redwood National Park but they were back in the camp grounds making dinner.

_SNAP!_

The sound of a breaking twig came to the young man's attention and he turned so quickly he nearly knocked Maria down.

The blond woman stumbled backward with the back of her hand touching her mouth to stifle a mischievous giggle at his expense. A flare of irritation was briefly ignited and then extinguished as she placed a hand on his arm.

"Whoaaa there, Sparky! I was just comin' to tell you that dinner was ready," she paused and scanned his face when a witty repartee did not fly back at her, "Are you okay, Michael?"

The face of an angel: round, full lips, sandy blond hair, and the kind of eyes you could easily get lost in if you weren't careful. Michael was always careful but for some reason that was beyond him, all he could do was stare at her. Closing the distance between them he put a calloused hand to either side of his lover's face and allowed a small smile to escape onto his lips.

"I'm fine, just standing watch. What is dinner, anyway? Did Max try to cook again?" Even though they were technically aliens that were immensely gifted with the power of manipulating the structure of almost all things Max could not cook. Not even with a few adjustments from his powers could it even be called passable.

"No, no…Liz decided she would take the duty upon herself but there is something unfortunate that I have to tell y—" He cut her off, she almost expected that he would. If ever there were a hint of bad news Michael would jump all over it until someone managed to settle him down.

"What? What's going on? Has there been anyone sniffing around our campsite?" Over the years he had learned to never take anything too lightly, to never NOT consider all the options and outcomes of a certain decision.

Maria held up a hand, a vaguely impatient look gracing her pixie features, "Michael," her voice grave and somber, "we are out of Tobasco sauce."

And then the wrenching sound of screaming split the forest at its very seams.


	2. The Lost Boy

**A/N: **First of all I do not own the characters of Roswell, they were created by Jason Katims and his gang. This one was meant to be sort of a cliffhanger yet again and a little proof that Maria can hold her own in most circumstances.

* * *

The reaction of most humans when they are afraid is the general pupil dilation, increased heart beat, and a burst of adrenaline which can enable them to do some pretty spectacular things. Michael felt a burst of emotions, a tempest of thoughts and half-reasoning roaring through his mind at all speeds before a panicked whisper from Maria shook him.

"**Michael…Michael!"**

He could tell her to stay, he could tell her that it was too dangerous for her and that anything could happen and if he lost her…but he didn't tell her. No, instead he rushed in the direction of their campsite as the screams continued and he realized, or at least a part of him realized that there were human children amongst the other campers and they were screaming too.

Maria flew down the path behind Michael, heart hammering against her ribs as she reached for the pistol in the shoulder holster hidden under her jacket. Yes, things had changed since they had left Roswell and she had learned, like the rest of them had learned, how to better defend herself. Sure, it wasn't as good as having powers like dream-walking, blowing shit up, and healing people but it was better than running around with nothing.

Now as she felt the cold, dread weight of the gun in her dominant hand it was finally beginning to sink in that it would never be over. That things could never go back to the way they were and that every possible peaceful conclusion would merely end in violence and heartbreak. She had chosen this and she had known that the outcome would never end perfectly. She would never go peacefully into that good night, she would fight alongside Michael until the very end and she had told him as much.

The air around the camp site as they approached was strangely humid and thick, a characteristic they had never before encountered but one that had made them wary nonetheless. Michael stepped in front of Maria, crouched slightly in the burgeoning darkness and sense of foreboding, teeth bared slightly much like a wolf. _All was quiet now;_ he realized suddenly, _when did it get so quiet? _Something didn't feel right and the sick feeling in Michael's gut only grew.

Until another scream cut through the silence, a young child lathered in blood stumbling from the woods. A strangled cry came from behind Michael and he didn't have to turn to know it was Maria. Tears blurred her vision, the gun slipping free from her grasp and thumping onto the moist ground. The boy could not have been older than 10 and judging by how red his hair had turned from all the blood he might have been a very blond, towheaded child.

The vacant stare of someone that had mentally retreated from horror was painted so clearly upon this boy's face Michael had to wonder if he'd screamed at all. He was immobilized, staring in horror as the child stumbled and weaved and the fell with a soft THUD! at his feet.

"**Michael," **Maria slid to her knees beside the boy, gently tugging him into her arms, **"Michael! Isabel, Max, Liz…the oth—" **

She inadvertently cut herself, choking back a sob as she watched Michael inspect the camp site, watched his back tense and his fists clench into tight balls. Whatever had done this had done it fast and bloody and there was no clever finesse…but there were also no body parts.

Ripping through the remnants of Max and Liz's tent he tore the entire campsite apart until Maria's quivering index finger guided his gaze. And when it met with the object to which she was revealing two things happened:

Michael let out a gut-wrenching scream.

And the little bloody boy opened his eyes.


	3. Blood & Discoveries

**A/N: **First of all I do not own the characters of Roswell, they were created by Jason Katims and his gang. Ohnoes! The Czechs + Liz have been nabbed!

"**The bad men came, they took away…" **The small child paused, staring up into the sudden rainfall that was coursing down from Maria's chin. He began to try and turn his head, to follow her gaze but she cupped a hand by the side of his face and pulled him tightly to her chest. Protecting him from what hung from the tree, from the sight that she couldn't protect Michael from.

Carved into the petrified bark of the redwood in front of Michael were the words: _"'TAG YOU'RE IT, MICHAEL.'"_

It was not just the words that conjured the emotional response but the details surrounding and dripping from them, blood ran in rivulets down the smooth bark of the tree and spattered Michael's face from above. There was blood everywhere and if he looked up…well, he wouldn't look up. None of the others were hanging in that tree and that was only a small consolation as far as he was concerned.

Frustration boiled inside of him, wondering who it could be. Had they not been careful enough? Had someone been tailing them all the time they had left from Roswell? A shape shifter? Or maybe it was someone else, someone closer…he whirled around, his back to the tree, an eyebrow twitching as the words disintegrated from the bark. _What are you going to do about the bodies? _The question swam up out of nowhere, registering as barely a ripple on the surface of all that was happening.

"**Maria. Baby, we gotta go after them before the trail fades," **He knew she could barely hear him where ever she was and the kid was caught in the same kind of world she was trapped in. A living, waking nightmare. He knelt down, wiping the blood from his face and attempting to keep the stoic expression from slipping off the side of his countenance.

Maria was rocking back and forth, blond hair swinging rhythmically and brushing the little boy's face. Her thoughts dwelling on the fate of Isabel, Liz, and Max and worrying about what would become of this boy…his family…had they been here with him? Did he have anyone else that could take him? How could they just leave him behind?

"**Maria," **Michael's voice adopted an increasing sense of urgency, hooking his pointer finger and thumb beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"**Michael…your face…" **She reached out as if to touch him and suddenly drew back as if unsure that he was really himself.

"**They might come back Maria; we really need to get out of here. I can carry him," **He held out his arms but the boy shrank from him, hiding his face against the fabric clinging to her chest. An embittered growl of impatience slid from his lips before a stirring in the growth of ferns behind him had him whipping around, body spread to protect Maria from whatever blow might be coming.

A pale, bloody hand was groping wildly amongst the greenery and Michael realized with a start that it could be a survivor. Boots crunching the debris beneath him his right hand was thrust out in front of him, forcibly bending plants out of his way to find…

"**Kyle!" **His surprise must have struck some kind of chord in the semi-conscious human because he began to laugh uproariously, the harsh sound assaulting Maria's ears as she clambered to her feet, carrying the child with her as she ran clumsily to them both.

"**Oh my god, Kyle! Kyle! Are you okay?" **Her voice at once sounded almost too loud for the graveyard quality the ancient forest had taken, a decidedly different turn of events from what had happened moments before. It had all come so fast and so hard, a blitzkrieg in California and they never saw it coming.

Kyle had become a far cry from the nice-guy-next-door type since their collective exodus from Roswell, New Mexico. A goatee framed his mouth, something they had all teased him about in the beginning but under the circumstances it all seemed so trivial as Michael hauled him to his feet.

"**Michael," **Wheezing from the exertion Kyle staggered slightly, nearly toppling them both in the process, **"Michael. They…they came so fast…killed everyone…but not them. They took them away, Max and Isabel and…"**

The little boy had turned his head and was staring solemnly at the fellow survivor, blue eyes shining ever so slightly. He seemed to sense that it would be hard for this stranger to continue the horrific tale that had only taken moments to destroy all of their lives but seemed to take longer to tell…to muddle through the horrific details, to pinpoint where everything had gone wrong.

His voice was thin, but still he spoke, eyes never leaving the swaying man, **"They were fast things," **he whispered intently, "**bad things. Not all of them were fast. Some had guns and big cars, there was yelling and screaming and daddy told me to hide…to not make a sound. He went away and then I heard him and then nothing…"**

Kyle looked at the boy, pity hidden in the darkened corners of his eyes as he turned to Maria, **"They didn't take Liz…I don't where she is but she wasn't here when it happened."**

There was a sudden surge of electricity in the air just then and all their worlds turned to black. No time to cry out in warning, no time to run. All Michael would be able to recall from this event would be a sudden white-hot flash and a thud as he hit the ground, the tops of brown hiking boots level with his face before the darkness took him.

It might already be too late.


	4. A Man & A Gun

**A/N: **First of all I do not own the characters of Roswell; they were created by Jason Katims and Melissa Metz.

It's not every day you wake up in a bed inside a log cabin with an old man holding a shotgun across his knees. But that is exactly what Michael Guerin woke up to, aside from a blistering head ache. Once he realized where was and where he wasn't he scrambled up with his dominant hand thrust out in front of him, ready to take out the man that had deterred his rescue operation. The old man was surprisingly quicker, and now Michael was staring down the barrel of the gun into the craggy features of someone that seemed surprisingly familiar.

"**Now, I'd jus' hate tah have tah put a bullet between those eyes of yorn, Michael," **A decidedly Southern drawl poured from his mouth, so thick it could have been maple syrup, **"Now yew jus' calm yerself down some, son. I ain't gonna hurt yeh. I saved your lives."**

A string of profanity broke from Michael's lips until he rewound and realized the man knew his name. _How in the hell does he know my name? Maria. Where's Maria?! _ **"Who the hell are you and how do you know my name, Grandpa?" **Righting himself on the bed he tossed the quilts off and swung his legs down to the floor.

The old man smiled grimly at the rude inquiry but kept his fussing over the boy's manners to himself. Instead he laid the shotgun back across his knees and gave the filthy kid in front of him a hard once-over. **"My name is Jim O'Rourke; I used t'be a Ranger in the great state of Texas 'fore they was fixin' on turnin' crookeder than a dick stuck in a door. I know yer name 'cuz yer girlfriend tol' me who you were."**

Choking on the bald-faced crudeness of the man's turn of phrase a little part of Michael seemed to be starting to like this man. Even if he had zapped him within an inch of his life and pointed a gun at him, there was something about this man that rang true even though Michael's every other instinct told him that no one could be trusted. That no one could be let in to their circle because they had made that mistake before and what had come of it had only been pure destruction.

"**While this is all very interesting I want to see Maria and the others…make sure they're okay and you're really not a Grizzly Adams axe murderer."**

The old man smiled thinly and stood; the traitorous ache and protests of his old bones a constant lamentation to the loss of youth. He understood the boy's reasoning and didn't protest, instead he limped toward the door, **"Yer a bit young t'be knowin' who Grizzly Adams was."**

Michael swept past him, hand on the iron door knob, **"Appearances can be deceiving, old man."**

O'Rourke sighed and nodded, watching as Michael opened the door, soon to find himself in a new world that he knew very little about. Things were gonna change once again for these kids and the only thing that he could was to help them get through it.

_Oh I know a thing or two 'bout appearances, boy. You wouldn't even believe._

**A/N: **Reviews and comments are encouraged. I kinda pictured O'Rourke as Kris Kristofferson, y'know...the guy from Blade. He always did strike me as a good mentor. x3


	5. The Girl In The Boy

**A/N: **First of all I do not own the characters of Roswell; they were created by Jason Katims and Melissa Metz.

Opening the door he was confronted with an embrace so ferocious in its conception that he staggered, lungs briefly screaming for air before the grip loosened slightly and he was able to process the sweet and spicy scent of Maria. _Maria. _His arms wove themselves around her waist, chin resting on the top of her head and nearly nuzzling into the silken expanse.

"**Michael," **Maria's voice was choked with emotions that she needn't explain and he didn't need to look into her eyes to know that they were full of tears. **"Michael, he said he could help us and I think…I think it might be a wise choice with all things considered. Kyle's ankle is badly sprained…his arm is broken and Liz…"**

Michael frowned at the mention of Elizabeth Parker. She had been missing in action before and after the attack on the camp site. That much he had recalled before being zapped by Mr. Walker Texas Ranger.

"**Liz? What about Liz? I thought she'd been taken with everyone else," **Turning abruptly as the old man entered into the room shaking his head Michael's eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher the feeling of black dread slowly creeping up from the pit of his stomach. **"What is it that everyone knows and I don't?"**

The silence hung like a heavy curtain, obstructing other thoughts of how and when to begin this search and rescue operation. A quiet, semi-creepy humming started up from behind him and Michael glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the boy. Now devoid of blood but no less disturbing in appearance the fair-haired child was staring blankly up at him and that was when Michael realized what was so strange about the boy.

"**He looks like…he is…"**

Maria seemed to stare at Michael with the kind of sympathy she reserved for him when he had made a stupid mistake and so she began to finish the sentence for him, **"****SHE**** looks like Tess. ****SHE**** is what is commonly known as an albino. Extremely rare in human beings and…the funny thing is that I was under the impression there was only one baby."**

Michael gaped, staring at the mute girl in the ratty Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was at least four sizes too large. **"I…thought so too. Why is she not a baby?"**

O'Rourke smiled grimly, touching a calloused finger tip to his temple and rubbing as though to assuage a sudden pain. He knew that these kids were going to have some difficulty processing the enormous weight of the information that was crashing down on their heads. O'Rourke knew a thing or two about surprises and secrets, he had plenty of his own pop up over the years and this girl had been one of them.

"**Her name is Zoë, my son and his wife found her on a highway a year ago. She's 10-years-old by my guess."**

Their attention switched back to him as Kyle hobbled into the room with a blood-stained towel hanging around his neck, **"She's awake…we need to move fast."**


End file.
